


I Hold Your Hand So Hard (My Knuckles Turn White)

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Community: femslashficlets, Demon/Human Relationships, F/F, Horror, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Season/Series 03, Seven Deadly Sins, Supernatural Femslash Bingo, blood is thicker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:30:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason why they fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hold Your Hand So Hard (My Knuckles Turn White)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for femslashficlets for prompt #030 (remainder) for the previous prompt #025 (seven deadly sins).
> 
> Also a fill on my SPN Femslash Bingo card for the prompt ‘blood is thicker.’
> 
>  _Soundtrack:_ Title and lyrics come from Katatonia’s ‘Follower’

_~This is how you tell me once again_

_How I have nothing on you_

_How everything is supposed to end~_

* * *

 

She has not felt rage for an age, yet she feels it now.

Casey has been good all these years, perfect in her feigned innocence, without flaws but for her preoccupation with physical appearance.

She has waited for a sole action to stir up these particular emotions once more. These feelings of rage and an impending sense of loss if she should do nothing. Casey feels shame as well, to feel these all too human emotions, to become a slave to this single-minded fury.

Yet they have dared to test her limits, to steal her passion and make her remember her place. She is no human, despite her longing in this world, despite that pesky hope she has to remain.

She rushes forward, prepared to crack them like eggs beneath her manicured fingernails.

Casey feels her purpose sing inside her once more, and soon there is payment enough: fresh blood coating her teeth.

*******

Bela wants it all, so she takes it all. But not without a little help first.

First, there’s the issue of her parents: roaches infesting this planet that she won’t miss. She tells herself that rolling naked in money will not make the nightmares - the memories - leave her be, but it’s better than rolling in nothing.

Long after the corpses have gone and the demon has reminded her of payment, long after a nagging guilt and a shaking hand and a sense of purpose as she flees from one town to another, ever-searching for a life which has never been offered her, Bela stops with any niceties but doesn't stop with the expensive clothes and designer shoes.

Second, there’s the knowledge that she can have it all. Pretty much the world in the palm of her hand, and even though the world is ugly and it has haunted her beyond repair, she can break it and mold it to her ill intentioned will.

She is Bela Talbot.

And if she is going to drown, she will drown in her stacks of hundred dollar bills.

*******

She doesn’t feel like wiping the blood from her chin.

There is a human whose internal clock is ticking down, who is dying a little more each day. There are plenty of humans out there like that, but this one is different.

Casey watches through a rain soaked window as the human buries something. She is knee deep in mud and with her long, dark, absolutely soaked hair she looks like a cat who has almost drowned. There are bracelets hanging from her wrists and she has broken nearly every nail yet she is so determined. Casey could squash her, make her the third kill of the night.

The night is old already, soon the blood tucked into certain corners of her teeth will reveal all. Still, Casey is too lazy to clean herself of bodily fluids that aren’t hers.

Or drive away, away from this human. From this tragic mystery.

*******

The girl at the bar watches her underneath dark bangs.

Another shot of whiskey burning its way down Bela’s throat and she’s still watching, checking Bela out, trying to keep her distance but its impossible as those at the bar slowly trickle away until there is only Bela remaining and her empty shot glass.

She knows she’s nearing drunk, swaying somewhat in her seat, and that hardwood counter suddenly looks too comfortable not to lay her head down on. The bartender’s gorgeous though, with so much that Bela wants. That raspberry red jacket for starters, those deep eyes, that long, curvy figure.

“You got a ride home?” Or rather, _You wanna head back to my place?_

Bela smirks, the bartender pours her another drink anyway.

They make it outside but not back to either of their places.

*******

Humans are too preoccupied with what others think of them.

Bela was never concerned with this.

Casey always was, working her way up, claiming a vessel: first pick of the lot. Standing out made her feel superior among her fellow demons, standing out among humans was a major factor at play too.

This Bela Talbot could teach her a thing or two.

Except for death.

*******

Sharp white teeth underneath ruby red lips. Strong hands with dirt under the fingernails. Casey isn’t a good girl, exactly like Bela. She’s been hardened with time, honed by loss, misery and personal vengeance.

Bela’s tongue peeks out to swallow her whole.

The human feels... inflamed.

*******

There’s a reason why they fit.

They’re wrestling down in the mud, but neither care about the mess they’re making of themselves. There’s just the single-minded purpose to _fuck_ , to tear at each other’s clothes and pull at  tangled, mud-caked hair. There are Casey’s deft fingers working at Bela’s too skinny jeans, fingernail scraping along her skin and Bela’s own jagged fingernails digging into the demon’s scalp.

There is Lilith ticking down the time in Bela’s head in her sing-song voice and all Bela wants is _this_. Casey’s fingers deep inside her, rubbing, creating friction.

Blood still smears Casey’s scalp and cheeks and upper lip from her last kill. Neither of them can stop who they are, they just have to let it play out and watch. Bela thinks of the stacks of money on her vacant motel bed, bloody fingerprints all over them. Stacks with Bela’s name carved into them.

“Fuck.” Her hand slips and immediately tries again to settle onto Casey’s thigh, coated in sweat.

Bela’s all too used to the eyes and she doesn’t complain, their darkness only symbolizes the hole inside her that will never be filled. Holes work like that, sometimes they open up and they’ll never close again.

“Be patient,” Casey hisses back, but Bela knows she likes her impatience. She likes that Bela’s human and despite being fragile, _wants_ to be hurt and sore and limping and _crawling_.

They slip and slide in the mud and the blood and its the last thing that Bela will ever remember. Rightfully so.

**FIN**


End file.
